william ewart gladstone-第8部分

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seemed　to　have　no　dislike　at　all；　though　Lord　Salisbury　had　more
than　once　insulted　him。　　On　one　occasion　（in　1890）　he　remarked　to　a
colleague　who　had　said　something　about　the　prime　minister's
offensive　language：　　〃I　have　never　felt　angry　at　what　Salisbury　has
said　about　me。　　His　mother　was　very　kind　to　me　when　I　was　quite　a
young　man；　and　I　remember　Salisbury　as　a　little　fellow　in　a　red
frock　rolling　about　on　the　ottoman。〃　　His　leniency　toward　another
violent　tongue　which　frequently　assailed　him；　that　of　Lord　Randolph
Churchill；　was　not　less　noteworthy。

That　his　temper　was　naturally　hot；　no　one　who　looked　at　him　could
doubt。　　But　he　had　it　in　such　tight　control；　and　it　was　so　free　from
anything　acrid　or　malignant；　that　it　had　become　a　good　temper；
worthy　of　a　large　and　strong　nature。　　With　whatever　vehemence　he
might　express　himself；　there　was　nothing　wounding　or　humiliating　to
others　in　this　vehemence；　the　proof　of　which　might　be　found　in　the
fact　that　those　younger　men　who　had　to　deal　with　him　were　never
afraid　of　a　sharp　answer　or　an　impatient　repulse。　　A　distinguished
man　（the　late　Lord　Chief　Justice　Coleridge）；　some　ten　years　his
junior；　used　to　say　that　he　had　never　feared　but　two　persons；　Mr。
Gladstone　and　Cardinal　Newman；　but　it　was　awe　of　their　character
that　inspired　this　fear；　for　no　one　could　cite　an　instance　in　which
either　of　them　had　forgotten　his　dignity　or　been　betrayed　into　a
discourteous　word。　　Of　Mr。　Gladstone　especially　it　might　be　said
that　he　was　cast　in　too　large　a　mold　to　have　the　pettiness　of
ruffled　vanity　or　to　abuse　his　predominance　by　treating　any　one　else
as　an　inferior。　　His　manners　were　the　manners　of　the　old　time；　easy
but　stately。　　Like　his　oratory；　they　were　in　what　Matthew　Arnold
used　to　call　the　grand　style；　and　the　contrast　in　this　respect
between　him　and　most　of　those　who　crossed　swords　with　him　in
literary　or　theological　controversy　was　apparent。　　His　intellectual
generosity　was　a　part　of　the　same　largeness　of　nature。　　He　always
cordially　acknowledged　his　indebtedness　to　those　who　helped　him　in
any　piece　of　work；　received　their　suggestions　candidly；　even　when
opposed　to　his　own　preconceived　notions；　did　not　hesitate　to　own　a
mistake　if　he　had　made　one。　　Those　who　have　abundant　mental
resources；　and　have　conquered　fame；　can　doubtless　afford　to　be
generous。　　Julius　Caesar　was；　and　George　Washington；　and　so；　in　a
different　sphere；　were　Newton　and　Darwin。　　But　the　instances　to　the
contrary　are　so　numerous　that　one　may　say　of　magnanimity　that　it　is
among　the　rarest　as　well　as　the　finest　ornaments　of　character。

The　essential　dignity　of　his　nature　was　never　better　seen　than
during　the　last　few　years　of　his　life；　after　he　had　retired　（in
1894）　from　Parliament　and　public　life。　　He　indulged　in　no　vain
regrets；　nor　was　there　any　foundation　for　the　rumors；　so　often
circulated；　that　he　thought　of　reentering　the　arena　of　strife。　　He
spoke　with　no　bitterness　of　those　who　had　opposed；　and　sometimes
foiled；　him　in　the　past。　　He　gave　vent　to　no　disparaging　criticisms
on　those　who　from　time　to　time　filled　the　place　that　had　been　his　in
the　government　of　the　country　or　the　leadership　of　his　party。
Although　his　opinion　on　current　questions　was　frequently　solicited；
he　scarcely　ever　allowed　it　to　be　known；　and　never　himself　addressed
the　nation；　except　（as　already　mentioned）　on　behalf　of　what　he
deemed　a　sacred　cause；　altogether　above　partythe　discharge　by
Britain　of　her　duty　to　the　victims　of　the　Turk。　　As　soon　as　an
operation　for　cataract　had　enabled　him　to　read　or　write　for　seven
hours　a　day；　he　devoted　himself　with　his　old　ardor　to　the
preparation　of　an　edition　of　Bishop　Butler's　works；　resumed　his
multifarious　reading；　and　filled　up　the　interstices　of　his　working…
time　with　studies　on　Homer　which　he　had　been　previously　unable　to
complete。　　No　trace　of　the　moroseness　of　old　age　appeared　in　his
manners　or　his　conversation；　nor　did　he；　though　profoundly　grieved
at　some　of　the　events　which　he　witnessed；　and　owning　himself
disappointed　at　the　slow　advance　made　by　some　causes　dear　to　him；
appear　less　hopeful　than　in　earlier　days　of　the　general　progress　of
the　world；　or　less　confident　in　the　beneficent　power　of　freedom　to
promote　the　happiness　of　his　country。　　The　stately　simplicity　which
had　been　the　note　of　his　private　life　seemed　more　beautiful　than
ever　in　this　quiet　evening　of　a　long　and　sultry　day。　　His
intellectual　powers　were　unimpaired；　his　thirst　for　knowledge
undiminished。　　But　a　placid　stillness　had　fallen　upon　him　and　his
household；　and　in　seeing　the　tide　of　his　life　begin　slowly　to　ebb；
one　thought　of　the　lines　of　his　illustrious　contemporary　and　friend：


　　　such　a　tide　as　moving　seems　asleep；
　　　　　　Too　full　for　sound　or　foam；
When　that　which　drew　from　out　the　boundless　deep
　　　　　　Turns　again　home。



CHAPTER　VI：　　SOCIAL　QUALITIES



Adding　these　charms　of　manner　to　a　memory　of　extraordinary　strength
and　quickness　and　to　an　amazing　vivacity　and　variety　of　mental
force；　any　one　can　understand　how　fascinating　Mr。　Gladstone　was　in
society。　　He　enjoyed　it　to　the　last；　talking　as　earnestly　and
joyously　at　eighty…five　as　he　had　done　at　twenty　on　every　topic　that
came　up；　and　exerting　himself　with　equal　zest；　whether　his
interlocutor　was　an　arch…bishop　or　a　young　curate。　　Though　his　party
used　to　think　that　he　overvalued　the　political　influence　of　the
great　Whig　houses　and　gave　them　more　than　their　fair　share　of　honors
and　appointments；　no　one　was　personally　more　free　from　that　taint　of
snobbishness　which　is　so　frequently　charged　upon　Englishmen。　　He
gave　the　best　he　had　to　everybody　alike；　paying　to　men　of　learning
and　letters　a　respect　which　they　seldom　receive　from　English
politicians　or　social　magnates。　　And　although　he　was　scrupulously
observant　of　all　the　rules　of　precedence　and　conventions　of　social
life；　it　was　easy　to　see　that　neither　rank　nor　wealth　had　that
importance　in　his　eyes　which　the　latter；　especially　nowadays；
commands　in　London。　　Dispensing　titles　and　decorations　with　a
liberal　hand；　his　pride　always　refused　such　so…called　honors　for
himself。　　When　Mr。　Disraeli　became　Earl　of　Beaconsfield；　his　smile
had　a　touch　of　contempt　in　it　as　he　observed；　〃I　cannot　forgive　him
for　not　having　made　himself　a　duke。〃

It　was　often　said　of　him　that　he　lacked　humor；　but　this　was　only　so
far　true　that　he　was　apt　to　throw　into　small　matters　a　force　and
moral　earnestness　which　ordinary　people　thought　needless；　and　to
treat　seriously　opponents　whom　a　little　light　sarcasm　would　have
better　reduced　to　their　insignificance。　　In　private　he　was　wont　both
to　tell　and　enjoy　good　stories；　while　in　Parliament；　though　his　tone
was　generally　earnest；　he　would　occasionally　display　such　effective
powers　of　banter　and　ridicule　as　to　make　people　wonder　why　they　were
so　rarely　put　forth。　　A　great　deal　of　what　passes　in　London　for
humor　is　mere　cynicism；　and　he　hated　cynicism　so　heartily　as　to
dislike　even　humor　when　it　had　a　touch　of　cynical　flavor。　　Wit　he
enjoyed；　but　did　not　produce。　　The　turn　of　his　mind　was　not　to
brevity　and　point　and　condensation。　　He　sometimes　struck　off　a
telling　phrase；　but　never　polished　an　epigram。　　His　conversation　was
luminous　rather　than　sparkling；　you　were　interested　and　instructed
while　you　listened；　but　the　words　seldom　dwelt　in　your　memory。

After　the　death　of　Thomas　Carlyle　he　was　beyond　dispute　the　best
talker　in　London；　and　a　talker　far　more　agreeable　than　either
Carlyle　or　Macaulay；　inasmuch　as　he　was　no　less　ready　to　listen　than
to　speak；　and　never　wearied　the　dinner…table　by　a　monologue。　　His
simplicity；　his　spontaneity；　his　genial　courtesy；　as　well　as　the
vast　fund　of　knowledge　and　of　personal　recollections　at　his　command；
made　him　extremely　popular　in　society；　so　that　his　opponents　used　to
say　that　it　was　dangerous　to　meet　him；　because　one　might　be　forced
to　leave　off　hating　him。　　He　was；　perhaps；　too　prone　to　go　on
talking　upon　one　subject　which　happened　to　fill　his　mind　at　the
moment；　nor　was　it　easy　to　divert　his　attention　to　something　else
which　others　might　deem　more　important。　　Those　who　stayed　with　him
in　the　same　country　house　sometimes　complained　that　the　perpetual
display　of　force　and　eagerness　fatigued　them；　as　one　tires　of
watching　the　rush　of　Niagara。　　His　guests；　however；　did　not　feel
this；　for　his　own　home　life　was　quiet　and　smooth。　　He　read　and　wrote
a　good　many　hours　daily；　but　never　sat　up　late；　almost　always　slept
soundly；　never　missed　early　morning　service　at　the　parish　church；
never　seemed　oppressed　or　driven　to　strain　his　strength。　　With　all
his　impetuosity；　he　was　remarkably　regular；　systematic；　and
deliberate　in　his　habits　and　ways　of　doing　business。　　A　swift　reader
and　a　surprisingly　swift　writer；　he　was　always　occupied；　and　was
skilful　in　using　even　the　scraps　and　fragments　of　his　time。　　No
pressure　of　work　made　him　fussy　or　fidgety；　nor　could　any　one
remember　to　have　seen　him　in　a　hurry。



CHAPTER　VII：　　AUTHORSHIP



The　best　proof　of　his　swiftness；　his　industry；　and　his　skill　in
economizing　time　is　to　be　found　in　the　quantity　of　his　literary
work；　which；　considering　the　abstruse　nature　of　the　subje